My Sister-in-law Wants My Husband

On our wedding night, my husband Grayson's sister-in-law, Scarlette, stumbled drunkenly into our bridal suite and threw her arms around him, refusing to let go. "Kayla, my husband died young, and I really just want a child. Please, lend him to me for one night," she cried through her tears, shoving a toy into my hand. "I promise I'll return him tomorrow. And if you get lonely… you can use this to comfort yourself." I stood there, dumbfounded, my gaze shifting in confusion to Grayson, who was already helping Scarlette steady herself. "You're really going to sleep with her?" He avoided my eyes, his tone strangely urgent. "Don't overthink it. She's drunk and talking nonsense. I'll take her back to her room to rest." As he started to leave with her, I stepped in front of them, blocking their way. "Grayson, it's our wedding night tonight. Are you seriously going to walk out with her?" His expression darkened as he pushed me aside. "You're my wife now—try to be more sensible. Don't get jealous over something so trivial." Then, carefully, he guided her out of the room. I wanted to run after him and stop them, but when I saw the deep concern in his eyes as he looked at her, the truth finally hit me. The love this man had for me was no longer mine alone. And if that was the case, why should I cling to a marriage that had already soured? I might as well walk away with my head held high. Chapter 1 The Wedding Night With a look of utter disgust, I tossed the toy straight into the trash, seething with anger. "Grayson and I are husband and wife. Are you trying to curse our sex life by giving me this ridiculous thing?" Scarlette quickly shook her head, tears streaming down her face as she stammered innocently, "No, Kayla, that's not what I meant. I was just trying to be kind." I snorted dismissively. "Kind? Please. Anyone watching would think I'm so starved for love that I need a toy like this to satisfy myself. Let's be real—you're the one feeling lonely and desperate, so you're looking for a man to fill that void." My words made Grayson's expression grim. "Kayla, enough! Don't talk nonsense!" he snapped, his voice sharp with anger. Then, in a tone that brooked no argument, he ordered, "Apologize to Scarlette." I stared at him, incredulous. "And why exactly should I?" His face darkened further, his tone turning icy. "Scarlette was drunk and said things she didn't mean. Why do you have to make a big deal out of everything? If you don't like what she gave you, you could've just returned it. Throwing it away is disrespectful. You're being petty, Kayla." I almost laughed from sheer disbelief. I was his wife, yet every word out of his mouth was in defense of Scarlette. Whenever I tried to warn him to keep some distance, he would brush me off and call me jealous. Once, a friend even pulled me aside, saying people were starting to talk about how close they seemed. So I told them—right to their faces—to stop being so affectionate in public, or people would think something improper was going on between them. Scarlette had only cried pitifully, acting wronged, and Grayson had immediately turned on me. He accused me of spreading rumors and ruining her reputation. He always took her side, scolding me for being narrow-minded and dirty-minded. "My brother asked me to take care of Scarlette before he passed away," he said coldly. "I gave him my word, so of course I'll be good to her. You, on the other hand, really need to clean up your thoughts." Every time, his words hit me hard. I'd tell myself maybe I was overthinking it. So over the years, the person who spent the most time by his side wasn't me—it was her. Scarlette always looked so lonely, so pitiful. But I knew better. Behind that fragile facade, she was vicious. She had secretly sabotaged me time and time again—cutting up my evening gown before an important event so I'd embarrass myself in front of everyone, drugging me with sleeping pills so I'd miss the design competition, even pretending to trip so she could make it look like I had pushed her. And every time, before I could even speak up, Grayson would rush to her defense. "Don't overthink it. Scarlette didn't do it on purpose." And his gaze on me would always be filled with irritation and disappointment, as if I were the one in the wrong. Out of respect for the seven years we'd been together, I'd always chosen to back down. But now, on our wedding night, he was actually considering spending it with her. It wasn't just her invitation—it was an insult to me. I refused to take it anymore. He didn't even bother to hide his impatience as he said, "Enough, just go to bed. I'll come back in the morning." I stared at him, disbelief clouding my face as he steadied Scarlette by the arm. "You're really going to sleep with her?" He avoided my eyes, his tone urgent. "Don't overthink it. She's drunk and talking nonsense. I'm just taking her back to her room." When they started toward the door, I blocked their way again. "Grayson, it's our wedding night. Are you seriously going to walk out with her?" His expression twisted in irritation as he shoved me aside. "You're my wife now—act like it. Don't get jealous over something so trivial." Then, carefully, he helped her out of the room. I wanted to run after them, to demand an explanation, but when I saw the tenderness in his eyes as he looked at her, everything suddenly became clear—the love he had for me was no longer mine alone. And if that was the case, what was the point of holding onto a marriage that was already rotten from the inside? I might as well let go—and walk away with what little dignity I had left. Chapter 2 The Breaking Point After their figures disappeared from sight, my fists tightened until my nails dug deep into my palms, the sharp pain cutting straight to the bone. 'No. Even if we're going to end things, I won't swallow this humiliation!' I thought and stormed out of the room. They were just about to step into her room when I raised my voice, shouting after them, "Grayson! Are you seriously going to sleep with her tonight?" Grayson froze. He turned, eyes wide and filled with warning. "Keep your voice down! What are you yelling for? I'm just walking Scarlette back to her room. Why do you have to be so sensitive and suspicious all the time?" Then, he sized me up. "What's gotten into you tonight? Do you really think marrying me gives you the right to throw tantrums whenever you please?" At that, Scarlette leaned her head against his shoulder, her tone trembling just enough to sound pitiful. "She's so mean, Grayson. Will she bully me in the future?" Grayson's jaw tightened, his face hardening into stern disapproval. "She wouldn't dare. And if she ever does, I'll deal with her myself." Satisfied, Scarlette lowered her head, hiding the triumphant smile tugging at her lips—but not before flashing me a quick, mocking glance. I laughed coldly. This woman knew exactly how to play weak and pitiful to earn his sympathy. No matter how wrong she was, Grayson always defended her. Even back when I was his girlfriend, I'd had to step aside because she was his sister-in-law. And every time I gave an inch, she took a mile. My eyes hardened, and instead of backing down, my voice rose, sharp and furious. "Grayson, I'm your wife! If you spend the night with her, what does that make me?" A hush fell over the crowd. The guests who hadn't yet left were staring up from the first floor, their necks craned toward us. Grayson's expression darkened instantly. "Kayla, what the hell has gotten into you?" He clearly hadn't expected me to keep pressing, much less expose everything in front of everyone. He marched toward me, grabbed my arm hard, and glared daggers at me. "If you keep acting out like this, I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget." The room had gone completely silent. With so many eyes on him, he must've realized how that sounded, because he quickly softened his tone. "Enough already. Stop making a scene. Just apologize to Scarlette, and we'll put this behind us." Scarlette chimed in sweetly, her timing perfect. "Yes, Kayla. You've got it all wrong." Watching the two of them play off each other so seamlessly, I suddenly felt like a stranger in my own life. How had I not seen it sooner? He always said I was being unreasonable—but was I really? For years, I'd told myself he was only looking after his late brother's widow. I'd tolerated it, again and again. And my patience had only given him the space to fall for her. That thought snapped something inside me. I yanked my arm out of his grip and stepped back, putting distance between us. Grayson stared at me, frowning as if he couldn't understand what I was doing. But I was done pretending. "Grayson, she bullied me! I'm the real victim here! Don't tell me you really don't know!" His expression shifted, his features tightening. I drew in a steady breath and laid it all bare. "Do you remember that trip we took? You two had plane tickets, but mine somehow wasn't booked. She claimed she forgot, but we both know that was a lie. During a picnic, she pretended to trip and said I pushed her. "At our university graduation party, she cut up my gown so I'd humiliate myself in front of everyone. When I competed in the design competition, she drugged me with sleeping pills so I'd miss it. And she knew I was allergic to peanuts—she knew it could kill me—yet she still put peanut butter in my cake." Gasps rippled through the guests below. I gave a bitter smile, my voice trembling but steady. "When I was in hospital, barely breathing, you came not to comfort me—but to scold me. You said I shouldn't have frightened her like that. You told me I wasn't dead, so why make such a big deal out of it?" Chapter 3 Tears and Lies Grayson's gaze dimmed, and a rare flicker of guilt flashed across his eyes. But I knew it was only temporary. Every time Scarlette stirred up trouble, he would always take her side. I looked him straight in the eye, my voice calm yet firm as I spoke each word clearly. "Since you think I'm petty and unreasonable, and you're afraid I'll bully her—let's get a divorce." Grayson froze, utterly stunned. He hadn't expected me to bring up divorce on our wedding day, and for a moment, he couldn't even react. It was Scarlette whose expression shifted first, tears welling up in her eyes before she burst into sobs. "Kayla, please don't be mad. It's all my fault." Watching her tears fall one by one, I felt nothing. If anything, her act struck me as fake. I gave a soft, self-mocking laugh. "I wouldn't dare be mad at you." She choked out a sob, her voice trembling as she launched into another pitiful monologue. "No, you are angry—otherwise you wouldn't be talking about divorce. Don't blame Grayson—he's only worried about me. It's just… "I've had such a hard life. My husband died not long after we got married, and I've had no one to depend on all these years. Grayson is only looking out for me because of the promise he made to his brother. Please don't misunderstand him. It's all my fault for drinking and saying stupid things. I never meant to hurt you—if I did, I'm sorry." Her words didn't move me. I only watched her coldly as she performed her scene. I'd seen this act too many times before. Every time she started trouble, she'd drag out her dead husband's memory to win sympathy. Yes, she was pitiful—but she could have remarried long ago. Why cling to Grayson and tear apart my marriage instead? After all these years, I'd seen enough to know the truth. She had feelings for him. I used to turn a blind eye, convincing myself he only had eyes for me. When I stayed silent, Scarlette suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me with a loud thud that made everyone around gasp. "I'm sorry—it's all my fault! Please forgive me!" Grayson's expression changed instantly. He rushed forward to pull her up just as people from downstairs came running up, their voices buzzing with judgment. "That's too much—forcing someone to kneel like that." "Didn't think she'd be that petty. Can't even stand her own sister-in-law." "Looks like she's got quite the cold heart." I stiffened slightly, but my tone turned icy. "This is my family's business. You don't know what's really going on, so keep your comments to yourselves." The crowd fell silent, cowed by the edge in my voice. Grayson, however, glared at me, his tone colder than ever. "That's enough, Kayla. If you keep this up, I won't hold back." Scarlette shoved him aside and knelt again. "It's all my fault—I've ruined your marriage." Then, she looked up at Grayson through her tears, her expression heartbreakingly delicate. "Grayson, I know you care about me, but I don't want to make things harder for you. I'll move out." She paused, then added in a trembling voice, "If Kayla really can't stand me, I'll even remarry." Her words sounded humble, but they twisted the blame back onto me. I saw the disappointment in Grayson's eyes, the kind that cut deeper than anger. He looked at me as if I'd let him down completely. I arched a brow, a faint, mocking smile tugging at my lips. "I only demanded divorce, yet she turned it into a full-blown tragedy. Tell me, Grayson—who's really being malicious here, her or me?" But he didn't want to listen. His voice grew sharp. "Enough. I'm done arguing with you. Since you insist on being difficult, I'll just lock you up for a few days. Maybe that'll teach you a lesson." Then, he turned to the servants and gave his order without hesitation. "Confine Kayla to her room for three days. She's not to leave." Chapter 4 The Slap That Ended Everything The servants immediately stepped forward, reaching out to grab me. I dodged them and snapped, "Grayson, you have no right to lock me up." Grayson let out a cold laugh, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You're my wife now. I can discipline you however I see fit." For a moment, I was stunned. I had thought marrying him would mean a happy life, but on the very first day, he was already using his status as my husband to control and humiliate me. I refused to let him trample over me. "That's nonsense!" I shouted back. "You're abusing your authority to humiliate me. If you really do it, I'll call the cops right away!" My words infuriated him. In the next second, his hand struck my face with a force so violent it sent me crashing against the wall. My head spun, my vision blurred, and I slid weakly to the floor. Blood trickled down my forehead, the sharp sting spreading across my face until it drowned out every ounce of reason. I let out a bitter laugh—but laughing only made me cry harder. No one had ever hit me before. And yet the first man to do it was the one I had once wanted to spend my life with. I lifted my tear-streaked face, glaring at him with all the pain and disbelief in my heart. I wanted to curse him, but the words caught in my throat. That slap had crushed whatever hope I'd still been holding onto. As he saw the state I was in, he instinctively reached out to help. I recoiled with a furious shout. "Don't touch me!" Frustration flickered in his eyes, but only for a second before it vanished. His tone stayed cold and arrogant. "Kayla, I'll give you one more chance. Apologize now." I wiped the blood from my forehead and stared down at the red smear on my fingers, tasting bitterness on my tongue. "If this were before," I said quietly, "you'd already be taking me to the hospital." His expression darkened, his face twisting with conflict. "Just apologize, and I'll take you there right away." I bit my lip and said nothing. He kept staring at me, waiting for me to give in—to be the same woman who would once bow her head at his slightest word, eager to please. But he was disappointed. The love I'd once felt for him had already been strangled to death by his own hands. Everything he did now only pushed me further away. We stood there in silence, staring each other down. No one wanted to yield. The air grew heavy, and every eye in the room was fixed on us, waiting to see who would break first. Then Scarlette suddenly swayed on her feet, looking faint as if she might collapse. Grayson rushed to catch her, wrapping his arms around her protectively. When he saw my silence, his pride couldn't take it anymore. His voice was filled with bitter disappointment. "Fine," he said. "If you're that stubborn and still want a divorce, then let's divorce." He carried her out in his arms without looking back. I caught the triumphant glint in Scarlette's eyes as she glanced over his shoulder—a look she always gave when she thought she'd won. Huh! Let her have her victory. I was done with this man. In this world, nobody dies from heartbreak. "Kayla, you two just got married today. Don't be so angry." "Yeah. Every couple fights. Just talk it out. Don't really get divorced." "You're lucky to have married Grayson. You've stepped into high society and never have to worry about money again. Don't throw that away—it'd be such a waste." "Poverty's no joke. Go find him, apologize, and make things right before it's too late." The guests tried to talk some sense into me, hoping I would yield, but I wouldn't. Not anymore. In reality, my family background was far better than Grayson's, though we'd always kept a low profile. Hardly anyone knew our real wealth. He was the one who'd married up. And I wasn't about to spend the rest of my life swallowing my pride just to keep a man like him. I got up, intending to go to the hospital, when a poised, elegantly dressed woman suddenly stepped in front of me, her cold gaze piercing straight through me. "Stop making a scene," she said sharply. "Get a glass of wine and go apologize to every guest now." Chapter 5 Family Divide I looked at the woman coldly. She was Grayson's mother, Laura. She was also the one who had always favored Scarlette and treated me poorly. She knew full well how much I had suffered, yet she had never once spoken a kind word on my behalf. I had respected her before because she was an elder—now I no longer wanted to placate her. As I turned to walk away, she grabbed my arm, her face hard and vicious. "Don't be absurd—are you really going to divorce my son?" I shot back, "What do you think? Should I pretend I didn't see them about to sleep together and congratulate them with a banner?" Laura flushed with surprise at my bold reply and fell momentarily silent. I pulled my hand free and told her plainly, "I'm done with your son." Her expression darkened into rage as she pointed and berated me without mercy. "You're so petty. Scarlette is my other son's wife—what's wrong with Grayson taking care of his sister-in-law? Are you going to nitpick everything and slander them? "Typical of someone from a poor family—no manners and no basic respect or understanding. You've got a cruel streak in you; making a scene and demanding a divorce on your wedding day is only meant to shame our family. "Anyway, you'll admit you were wrong today. You can't sully my son and daughter-in-law's reputation—if you want a divorce, you'll have to wait until the storm has passed." I frowned, resolute. "I won't apologize. This marriage is over. If worse comes to worst, I'll take it to court." "As if! If we don't pay you a cent, what chance does a girl born in a slum like you have of suing our family?" she sneered, every word dripped with contempt. "You're lucky to marry my son. If you insist on divorce, I doubt even your parents would approve." Upon hearing her bring up my parents, my eyes stung. They had opposed my marriage to Grayson from the start, but because they couldn't stop me, they reluctantly consented. And to make sure I lived with dignity, they had given me a dowry worth over a hundred million, and I had quietly converted most of it to cash and kept it hidden to avoid envy. If they learned I wanted a divorce, they would be upset, but they would back me. I had no intention of arguing further with someone so small-minded, so I turned and ignored her. But she wouldn't let me leave—she rushed to block me again. "Don't make me do this the hard way." I looked at her coldly. "What, does everyone here intend to beat me up?" Her expression hardened, and she signaled the servants to grab me. One woman's strength against three of them was futile—I was quickly overpowered and restrained. Laura strode up, her fury mounting as she raised her hand. "I'll teach a wicked wench like you a lesson!" Just as her palm was about to descend, a voice from the doorway barked, "Stop! Lay a hand on her, and I'll chop off your hand." Her arm froze midair, and she stepped back instinctively. A few bodyguards barreled in, pushing the servants aside and forming a protective circle around me. I saw who had come and, despite everything, couldn't help a rueful smile. My brother hurried over, sizing me up. When he saw the wound on my forehead, he turned grim and shouted at everyone in a dark, furious voice, "How dare you all bully my sister?!"